One For The Road
by AlElizabeth
Summary: Sam thinks of the events of the past and of the people he's lost, Dean included. Although this is set in the future, the events which lead to this occur before S.11, E. 20 (Don't Call Me Shurley). Oneshot
Sam sat alone in a booth at the very back of a bar called 'One-Eyed Annie's'. He had been there for the better part of the day, drinking his weight in beer, eating little, and letting his mind wander.

Sam had wandered into the bar early in the morning, probably right after it had opened, found a spot to sit that was out of the way, and stayed there.

"Excuse me," a young female voice spoke up and the hunter lifted his head.

"Hi, we're closing in a few minutes so…" the pretty, petite waitress told him, holding her serving tray out in front of her chest as though afraid he'd throw something.

Sam nodded and the girl left, glancing over her shoulder at him as she did so.

The hunter sighed and finished off the last of his beer, fishing his wallet from his jacket pocket simultaneously. Peeling a couple of bills away from the wad of money in the wallet, Sam set the currency down, sitting his empty bottle on top of it, and stood, stretching.

He knew he should go back to his motel room but didn't really want to. Instead, after nodding to the waitress as she ventured towards his table again once she saw he was leaving, Sam stepped out into the night and started at a leisurely pace down the sidewalk.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, the hunter started on what would probably be a very long walk. Maybe he'd be lucky and find another bar, one that was open all night, and if not, no big deal, he had all the time in the world.

There were few people on the street at this time of night and those who were brave enough to venture out ignored Sam and he them. The majority of night owls were college-aged kids stumbling around and laughing too loudly to be completely sober.

Sam was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the woman standing in the middle of the sidewalk until he had run into her. Reaching out, the hunter took hold of her arms to steady her, apologizing as he did so.

Looking up at the woman he'd nearly trampled, the hunter's mouth dropped open and his first thought was 'Amara'.

She was tall, with lightly tanned skin, long dark brown hair that curled slightly, dark brown eyes and a severe expression. She was wearing a white fur coat that almost swept the cement and diamond earrings. Anyway she looked out of place here on the street among rowdy twenty-something year olds and all-night Chinese restaurants.

The woman's gaze slid away from Sam in a way that told the hunter that he was of no consequence and she stepped away from him, easily pulled away from the gentle hold he'd had on her arms. Lifting a hand, she greeted the driver of a silver BMW that pulled up to the curb and smiled.

No, it wasn't Amara, it couldn't be. She was long dead.

Shoving his hands back into his pockets, Sam turned and started down the street again.

I would know, Sam thought, I killed her.

It had been many years since he'd thought of the Darkness. Once she had been destroyed, he and Dean had other fish to fry, as it were and Amara seemed to be nothing but an afterthought, just another baddie in a long list of evil sons of bitches they had fought over the years.

That is, until Sam died.

Or would have if he was still human.

Sam thought it had something to do with killing Amara. He remembered destroying the Darkness as though it had happened yesterday and not years ago. It seemed Dean had been correct when he'd claimed that his brother had to be the one to kill Amara. There hadn't seemed to be any other option at the time and the Winchesters were quickly running out of ideas.

The brothers had, for one last time, needed Crowley's help in finding an artifact that had been touched by God- the only thing that could kill Amara- and the deposed King of Hell had come through once again.

The item that would be the death of the Darkness didn't look like much when the Winchesters had seen it. It looked to all the world like a scratched, dented spearhead made of dull grey metal with some splintered bit of wood about the length of Sam's forearm sticking out from it. Crowley though, insisted it was the real deal, the Spear of Longinus that had pierced Christ's side at the Crucifixion.

Amara hadn't been that difficult to find, really; she made no concerted effort to hide, believing herself to be safe from all assassination attempts and the brothers had quickly found her again.

Sam didn't remember much about killing Amara. What he did recall was that Dean distracted her while he made his move, stabbing Amara in the chest with the Spear with all his strength. He remembered the way she'd turned her head to look at him as he held onto the end of the Spear, quietly panicking because it felt like he _couldn't_ let go of it and back away to safety, and thought for one horrible moment that again they had been wrong and he was about to die.

Sam didn't die, though. Instead, bright, blinding white light shone out from the wound in Amara's chest, forcing Sam to raise his free hand to shield his eyes. The Darkness screamed in pain as the light seemed to engulf her, burning her away. Amara attempted one final escape and darkness suddenly spread out from her body, hitting Sam like a brick wall and throwing him to the floor. The hunter remembered seeing the darkness Amara had caused vanish like so much smoke as she burned away, the Spear clattering to the floor and the hunter slipping into unconsciousness.

At first Sam didn't notice anything different. He was groggy and sore from being knocked roughly to the floor and blacking out but that wasn't the first time he'd felt that way and he didn't think much of it. Besides, their work wasn't finished yet; they had to save Cas.

Rowena, still hot to get revenge on Lucifer, was more than happy to help the brothers find the fallen angel and send him back to the Cage. For her, rescuing Castiel was just a part of the process.

After weeks of searching, the witch had found a spell that she felt certain would a) force the Devil from his current vessel and b) dump him back into Hell where he belonged.

Summoning Lucifer was not a problem, with the spell Rowena gave the brothers the angel would have no choice but to appear… and that's where Sam's memory of things began to get hazy.

The spell that would rip the Devil out of Castiel's body was old and wordy, which gave Lucifer time to show the Winchesters just how much he disliked the idea of leaving his current vessel.

Though the angel was trapped by the summoning spell and circle of flaming Holy Oil- Dean and Sam had not forgotten to put that down- he was still powerful and extremely pissed.

While Dean read out the incantation that would send the Devil back Downstairs- he'd insisted _he_ be the one to read it and help get Cas back- Sam struggled to keep Lucifer distracted.

Even now, walking down the street in the middle of the night, Sam felt a bead of sweat run down his temple to his jawline and his heart began to beat harder at the memory.

Since the incantation was so longwinded, the Holy Oil the Winchesters were using to keep Lucifer at bay began to burn out. Fearing that the Devil would escape again with Cas, Dean shouted at Sam to keep him where he was.

The younger man had no choice but to pull out an Angel Blade; Lucifer would not get away this time.

The Holy Oil was nearly gone, the incantation nearly finished, when the Devil was able to make a break for it. Desperate to save Cas, Sam approached Lucifer but didn't even have time to use his weapon. No long in the mood to play games, the fallen angel used his power and snapped Sam's neck. Sam himself had no idea what had happened until he'd asked Dean about it later.

Dean, determined to save his friend, finished the incantation and watched with grim satisfaction as Lucifer was forced from Castiel's body and a hole opened up with a billow of sulfur stink to suck the fallen angel back into the Cage.

Sam thought back to when he opened his eyes to find both his brother and Cas staring down at him with mournful expressions. Dean insisted Sam had been dead for at least two minutes, if not more- had told him he'd actually heard the sound of his neck breaking- and swore up and down that Cas hadn't been able to save him.

Although Sam wrote off his death at Lucifer's hands as a fluke and didn't enter any hunts with wanton carelessness because of his supposed immortality, it soon became obvious that he could not die.

A fall from the eleventh floor of an apartment during a hunt for a vengeful ghost, a chest wound after meeting with the claws of an enraged werewolf, and a half-dozen other injuries that would certainly have resulted in death or permanent injury- all of which Sam walked away from- quickly convinced the Winchesters that something was going on.

They'd never been able to quite figure out just what though. Sam, however, remained confident that it had something to do with Amara's death.

"Hey! Hey! Hi!"

The hunter peered over his shoulder at the sound and frowned before he realized that the guy who was waving and calling out wasn't really trying to get his attention.

Of course not, Sam thought; no one knows me now.

Dean had been gone for years, killed during a routine vampire hunt. Not even Castiel talked to Sam anymore.

The younger Winchester was quite literally alone.

Not that he minded much. He actually enjoyed his anonymity.

He wasn't even sure if any old acquaintance would recognize him if they saw him. His face was more careworn and lined now; his hair, though still long, was now more grey than brown. He often walked with his head down, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket to keep them warm.

No, Sam doubted many would connect the grizzled old veteran he'd become to the intimidating and fierce hunter he used to be.

The red light of an open sign beckoned to Sam and he stepped into the convenience store, a bell tinkling as he opened the door. He was the only one inside but for the young Middle Eastern girl at the cash register, her head covered by a pink hijab. Sam lifted a hand and waved to her as he made his way back to the drinks and she smiled in return.

Standing in front of the rows of refrigerated drinks, Sam tried to decide if he wanted to carry a case of beer all the way back to his motel room or not.

Deciding against it, the hunter opened one sliding door and reached in for a can of soda.

"Sam," a voice behind him spoke and the hunter turned to see Castiel standing there.

Sam smiled, "Long time no see."

The angel nodded.

"What's up?" Sam asked, closing the door to the drinks without picking one.

His friend looked up at him with those innocent blue eyes that could melt hearts, "You must be lonely."

The hunter shrugged, "I guess. I've gotten used to it. What's this about, Cas?"

"Would you like to rest now?" the angel asked.

Sam paused for a moment and then spoke, "Cas, whatever Amara did when she died-"

His friend interrupted, "Don't you want to rest? You must be very tired. Everyone is waiting for you. Dean's looking forward to seeing you again."

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded.

He'd long ago come to the conclusion and had accepted that he wasn't going to die. He was just going to live forever and wander restlessly until the end of time.

"I'd… I'd like to see him too," Sam managed to say.

Castiel offered a rare- albeit small- smile before he quickly grew serious again.

"It's time to rest now," the angel said and reached out, laying a hand on the hunter's chest.

 _SPN_

Malaika didn't pay much attention to the tall man with long hair when he came into the store. As soon as he was out of sight at the back of the store she returned to her homework.

Over the quiet music playing on the speakers though, she thought she could hear him talking and at first she thought he was just a homeless man who was now having a conversation with herself, she could have sworn she heard another voice reply.

Curious, Malaika left the counter and started walking further into the store, glancing up at the convex mirrors used to deter shoplifters until she found one where she could watch them man.

He was standing by the drinks at the back of the store. Alone.

Frowning, Malaika made to go back to the counter when the man suddenly fell to the floor.

Concerned for the man's safety, the girl ran back to the counter and grabbed the phone beside the cash register, phoning for an ambulance.

The dispatcher told her to go to the man and sit with him until help arrived.

Malaika did as she was asked and rushed to the man's side. He lay on his back; one leg bent slightly, his left hand resting on his chest. His face was a pale as a sheet though his green eyes were open and Malaika could have sworn there was a smile on the old man's lips.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Chapter title comes from an Arctic Monkeys song.**

 **I've been toying with one or both Winchesters being immortal for a while and I wanted to explore it a bit in this Season. I may return to the idea, I think it would be intriguing, but for now will leave it at this oneshot.**

 **Please leave a review. No flames though. Thanks!**


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